


Somewhere in Neverland

by Angleterre97



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angleterre97/pseuds/Angleterre97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting lost inside the world of Neverland, wishing that he too could be swept away to a world that was better, funner, more exciting and simply somewhere that wasn't his home. But as he grew older, wiser and more logical, those dreams began to feel more distant, farther and farther away... *Fruk and brotherly Arthur and Peter*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere in Neverland

Arthur stares up at the ceiling in his bedroom. It's covered in glowing green stars he had put up years ago as a kid, and he simply never taken them down. They were good to stare at, when he had a lot on his mind. One door down he can hear the TV in his little brother's room. Peter was watching a classic tonight, Peter Pan. As a child it was Arthur's favorite movies. Secretly, it still is.

He remembers it well, sitting in front of the screen, watching pirates and mermaids, a fantasy land he could always dream he was a part of when he went to sleep at night. But those days of dreaming ought to have come to a close. Arthur is 17 now and almost out of school. He's had a part-time job for three years, and is the only Kirkland boy who plans to ditch the small British village-town to make something of himself.

His three older brothers all work at the town mill, like almost every other young lad in the area, earning their wages and spending them at the pub. Peter was still to young to have aspirations that went beyond outrageous occupations such as astronauts and explorers and the like. Arthur planned to go to college, or at the very least get out of the hell hole he called home. Yes, he considered it a hell hole, because his life was hell.

His parents had split when he was 7. Their father died shortly after in a drunken car accident and the mother remarried. She had moved north with her new husband, leaving her youngest boys in the care of the oldest, who had just turned 18. If that wasn't enough emotional turmoil for a 7 year old, being raised by siblings who practically hated you wasn't much of a help, or being bullied in school. When he got older Arthur realized when it came to his brothers it was merely a combination of inexperience and tough love, but to a kid it all seemed horrid.

He resented his family, every last member (Save Peter, he was just a young and ignorant brat, but still lovable) and the majority of his classmates. He still does.

As a child, fairytales had been one of his only resolves. Book after book he would read to get away, and when his brothers let him watch a movie, it was even better,

Getting lost inside the world of Neverland, wishing that he too could be swept away to a world that was better, funner, more exciting and simply somewhere that wasn't his home. But as he grew older, wiser and more logical, those dreams began to feel more distant, farther and farther away...

A rock hitting his window. He disregards it.

Another.

And another.

Finally he stands to make it cease. He thinks that he must have been laying there far longer than he had thought. The sun had sunk all the way below the horizon and the whole house was silent, indicating that Peter's movie must have ended and he had gone to sleep (The older three worked the night shift.)

As he opens the window he stares down into the yard through the leaves of the tree that has grown next to his window for as long as he can remember.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" He calls down in an almost whisper. He knows who it is, all to well.

"Can I come up? I need to talk to you."

"Francis, can't this wait till morning?"

"Non, s'il vous plaît let me come up?"

"Urgh, fine."

Francis Bonnefoy. A French student in Arthur's class, and though they argued more than anything else, one of his only friends, and by far the closest. It's not the first time Arthur has watched the long-haired blonde climb up the old tree to his window in the middle of the night. In fact he has done it so many times that climbing the tree is almost like second nature to the French student, he knows where every hand hole and sturdy spot is to make for a quick and quiet accent. Many nights had Francis gone over to the Kirkland household at ungodly hours to simple chat out of boredom, which sometimes lead to in-depth conversations. Arthur would let things go he'd sworn he never would, about his parents and brothers. He loathed the other boy a lot of the time, he got under his skin, but he trusted him.

He recalls one night a few moths ago when a hellish storm had broken out and Arthur could hardly distinguish the sound of rain and rocks hitting his window. When Francis had climbed inside he had scolded him.

'How can you be out in weather like this? You're sopping wet and it's getting all over the floor! You'll catch a cold you know, and knowing my luck you'll get me sick too. I don't have time to bee ill, don't you know that you sod!'

Francis had only laughed and took the dry clothes Arthur had offered him. "I know you're afraid of thunder and lightning." The Frenchman had said as he plopped down on Arthur's bed. "Just thought I'd come check up is all."

That was the night things had begun to shift. When Arthur had huffed and denied such things as being afraid of anything, but squeaked like a little girl when a thunder cloud rumbled just over head. When Francis had opened his arms and Arthur had thrown away his pride and fell into them.

"This had better be worth my time frog, I was almost asleep." The two sit under the glowing artificial stars, not willing to turn on a light and wake anyone in the neighborhood up. His brothers never knew when Francis was over, somehow the were too thickheaded to figure it out, and Arthur was fine with that.

"When is it not worth your time mon cher?"

"Shut up, and get on with...hey what's with the bag? How long do you plan on staying?" It was then that Arthur noticed the backpack slung over the other's shoulder, odd, he'd never brought one before.

"Ah, always such an observant person, lapin. I was just getting to that." For a brief second, a hint of nervousness flitted across his blue eyes, then it was gone as he reached to take the Brit's hand.

"Arthur, you want to get out of here, right? Schools almost over and working part-time at the library isn't going to pay your way through college-"

"What's your point?" Arthur asked defensively. He tried to pull his hand away, but the other held strong.

"Let me get to that. Mon cher, your homelife is not the life you want to live, oui? I know you want to finish school, but I don't want to wait any longer." For the first time that night Francis met the other's confused gaze, blue and green.

"Arthur, run away with me."

The Brit sat there, silent. His eyes stayed locked on the other's, willing them to break and tell him that this was all a joke. But it wasn't, and he knew it. In that instance he could here Peter Pan again, playing out in his mind. He was Wendy, and suddenly he had his chance to fly away. But in the movie Wendy returns, if he says yes he knows he never will. Strangely that doesn't sadden him as much as he figured it would. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath...

"Let me say good-by to Peter first." Francis nods as Arthur leaves the room to walk the short distance down the hall. In his little brother's room he finds and pen and paper and begins to write. He writes down that he loves him and to stay in school, and sentimental stuff he could never say out loud. Arthur places the note by the smaller blonde's pillow as he leans in and kisses the top of his head.

Ten minutes later Arthur carries a similar backpack to Francis' own. It's filled with clothes and the money he's saved, and a few fond memories. And only when they reach the street, after one last climb through the old tree, does he allow himself to look back at his childhood home. Francis takes his hand and laces their fingers together as he pulls him in for a light kiss, still commanding, reassuring. And as they board the mornings first train bound for the south of England and on to Paris, Arthur's thoughts are drawn to the stars, glued to a ceiling he'll never see again. He thinks of his little brother waking up in a few hours to find find the note he's left for him, and prays for the best. For both of them.

….If you ever need me, just look for the second star to the right.

Love your jerk brother, Arthur.


End file.
